


sundown

by dorkstrider



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, M/M, i can't believe dirkjake has been destroying my life for four years, just like a lot of dick touching if i'm being honest, weird teenage-y relationship feelings here there and everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 11:36:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6983320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkstrider/pseuds/dorkstrider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Dirk Strider, you found somebody you could relate to. He, just like you, clearly didn’t belong here.</p><p>The first time you tried to talk to him, you’d failed to capture his interest. You'd pulled out some tragically weak conversation starter, something about the weather, and Dirk had shrugged, mumbled something and returned to what he was doing. It was a failure of a first attempt.</p><p>The second time also did not go as expected, but in a very different kind of way.  It started with Dirk straight out asking you what your “deal” was and ended with your shorts around your ankles in the second floor supply closet, your shaking hand pressed over your mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sundown

**Author's Note:**

> i kind of can't believe that i've been writing homestuck stuff for four years and this is the first thing i've ever posted but also, i totally can
> 
> i wrote this in december 2012 for my partner and i am very nervously posting it now please enjoy the gays

Your name is Jake English and you should probably be focusing on whatever your maths teacher is babbling on about, but any chance of that has long since been shot to hell. There may have been an attempt at first, but two rows in front of you is a shock of carefully styled white blonde hair attached to the boy who has captured your attention so much more successfully than trigonometry could ever hope to.

You remember the exact day you met him. It was a few short months after you’d transferred to this high school in Austin from the island where you grew up, and you were painfully homesick. Fortunately, nobody really took an objection to you. They thought your accent and your mannerisms and general behaviour was kind of odd, but one day you brought in your pistols to school (you are mighty proud of your guns, and had no idea they weren’t suitable for class presentations) and nobody was bold enough to give you a hard time after that. People started paying attention to you a little more and seemed to think you were good natured. A 'nice dude'. 

None of those kids managed to hold your attention, though. That honor fell to one person only.

The first thing you thought when you met Dirk Strider was that he was intimidating and fascinating. Kids gave him trouble because he was short and slender and kind of weird, and he kept this ungodly puppet in his locker. He had piercings and a tattoo on his shoulder that nobody understood; he wore stupid shades and nobody ever saw him smile and he rarely spoke to anybody unless he deemed it unavoidable. When he did, though, he ran whoever he was talking to into the ground.

In Dirk Strider, you found somebody you could relate to. He, just like you, clearly didn’t belong here.

The first time you tried to talk to him, you’d failed to capture his interest. You'd pulled out some tragically weak conversation starter, something about the weather, and Dirk had shrugged, mumbled something and returned to what he was doing. It was a failure of a first attempt.

The second time also did not go as expected, but in a very different kind of way. It started with Dirk straight out asking you what your “deal” was and ended with your shorts around your ankles in the second floor supply closet, your shaking hand pressed over your mouth in an effort to stay quiet as he, inexpertly but enthusiastically, went to town on your cock.

That night you pestered him but never received an answer. After that, you didn't see Dirk at school for a couple of days and some part of your mind conjured up the terrible thought that you might have imagined him.

Friday came and went and you thought maybe you had scared him off, but Saturday morning came and you were staggering to answer the front door in your daggy pyjamas because your grandmother was still asleep, and lo and behold. The bastard was just standing there smirking at you, like he thought the image of you barely clothed was more hilarious than anything else, and you wondered if maybe that should be insulting.

Like the gentleman you are you’d invited Dirk in, and then proceeded to fall straight back to sleep while Dirk entertained himself searching through your extensive movie collection. When you’d woken up, the credits for Napoleon were playing and Dirk was curled up next to you, an arm slung over your chest and a hand fisted in your shirt.

Looks weren't something that registered all too vividly with you, due in no small part to the fact that you're very fucking blind. You’d idly thought to yourself that you were handsome before, despite the unfortunate situation with your teeth, but it affords you an odd crooked grin that only adds to your charm. You have thick, dark hair that curls a little and bright green eyes, and you know on some level that you are attractive. But then there’s Dirk.

It wasn’t your fault that you couldn’t help but study him in his sleep when he was so peaceful, with none of his usual guards up. He had smooth, pale skin and long, dark, thick eyelashes that were kind of feminine. Strands of blonde hair – a little stiff from whatever the hell product Dirk used on it- fell across his forehead. The stud in his nose caught the light in your bedroom, leading your gaze downwards to the two in his lip. Snakebites? Lingo has never been your specialty. You are handsome, for sure, but Dirk is on another level. Dirk is inarguably beautiful.

Dirk is somebody who always has shields up, who preferred to suck your dick rather than have an honest to God conversation with you. Maybe that said something about who he was, but you're not the man to figure it out.

After he woke up a little while later (he drooled on your frigging pillow, which you noticed but didn't comment on out of the goodness of your heart) neither of you discussed the latent weirdness of the situation. Instead, you played Team Fortress 2 until dinner and he absolutely beat the pants off you.

Later, the two of you were pressed together in your bed, your lips barely touching as hands wandered and for a while it was little more than a manned research expedition; finding out Dirk would swat at you if you so much as brushed over his nipple but would have to press his face into a pillow to muffle his moans if you bit or scratched him, or pulled his hair. Duly noted: Dirk Strider has a slight pain thing and you don’t mind it at all. The two of you ended up with hands wrapped around each other as you panted against Dirk’s lips, your breath mingling between you as you both came embarrassingly fast and messy over your stomachs.

The routine continued, night after night. Dirk left on Sunday morning and then came back Sunday night, Monday night, Tuesday night, and each following night. The two of you would occasionally speak but it was a strangely non-verbal connection. It was never awkward with him because you never felt like you needed to entertain him, and if Dirk got bored he’d get up and find his own way home because that was how he operated. It was mainly just company that the two of you sought, and when night came it was never planned but you and Dirk would kiss and touch each other and you had never felt closer to anybody before in your life.

As the days passed by, though, you felt increasingly more uncomfortable being nothing to Dirk because damn if it didn’t feel like something when the other boy fell asleep against your shoulder, blonde hair tickling your cheek. When he kissed you with no heat, no intent, just for the sake of kissing you, it did funny things to your heart. Weeks turned into months and you thought you might love him, but he never gave any indication of wanting more from you. To the best of your knowledge, you've remained in a state of ‘just friends’.

Prom time came around and you considered asking him, but at school Dirk often acted like he barely knew you and it seemed likely that he’d turn you down. He made such an effort to exude an air of being isolated, being independent.

A beautiful girl in your science class named Aranea asked you to the prom and you had said yes. Word got around school, as it tended to do, and you weren’t sure why the prospect of Dirk hearing about it made you feel so guilty because he made it so abundantly clear you owed him nothing, and vice versa.

Dirk didn’t come over that night. Or any night that week. It hurt a lot more than it should have and your room felt extremely empty without him in it.

It was weeks before he came over again, and of course Dirk chose prom night to rise from the friggin' dead. You’d heard things about what Aranea was expecting from you that night. Her best friend Meenah, who quite frankly scared you, was planning a big afterparty at her house, which was unnecessarily big and had lots of spare bedrooms. One of which you were expected to occupy with your date. Somehow, though, it felt like you might take your clothes off and Dirk’s name would be branded all over your skin. He has you. He owns you. He marked you. Nobody else could ever have the same effect.

Then Dirk showed up on your doorstep and he looked barely like himself. He was completely vulnerable, with his hair brushed out (when he allows it to stay in its natural state, it’s wild and curls in the oddest places and you love it so much) and that day he’d left his shades behind and was looking into your eyes with his own wide and searching, a soft tangerine as opposed to the intense, electric orange they seem to be when the two of you are intimate. He’d also taken special care to dress himself up, and it makes your heart ache because this is all you wanted and it takes you less than a split second to make your decision.

You feel like quite the insensitive cur for blowing off Aranea, but it’s hard to feel guilty when you and Dirk go to some tacky Chinese place and you watch Dirk Strider (who you've seen handle complex mechanical parts in shop class like they’re Lego pieces) fight a long and doomed battle with chopsticks until he eventually gives in and asks for a fork.

After you get home the two of you make love in your bed, and it’s not harsh, hard, need-driven fucking like you’d expected it to be with him, if the two of you ever went this far. It’s worship, it’s taking care of each other and feeling the need to be as close as you’re physically capable of and really, making love is the only appropriate term for it.

When the two of you are finished you stroke his hair- taking advantage of the rare softness of it- and for the first time in your entire friendship or relationship or whatever it is, you really talk. You talk and Dirk talks until it feels like you might be losing your voice and you tell him everything. 

He tells you about how he’s always alone at his house, about how his brother is never there and yet Dirk is incapable of being mad at him because he loves him so deeply, and Dave’s all he has. 

You tell him about life back on the island and how you find the mainland so claustrophobic, about the fact that all you know is Jade and you can’t imagine life without her but she's getting old, and sooner rather than later that will become your reality.

Dirk falls asleep in your arms and you’re almost overwhelmed by the intensity of your emotion and how it almost feels heavy in your chest, like loving this boy is a weight you’re carrying around.

And that brings you to two weeks later. To today, this very moment, sitting in your maths class and gazing at the back of Dirk Strider’s head, idly observing the hickey you left on his neck and feeling faintly pleased with yourself. Today you’re going to make a statement. Today you’re going to tell him.

When the two of you are walking home later that day, you hold his hand and tell him you love him. Dirk kisses you and in that kiss he’s saying a thousand words. You’ll never forget that kiss, how the metal of his lip piercings presses against your bottom lip, how he smells like soap and how the leather of his gloves feels pressed against your palm. Dirk tells you that he loves you too and the world stops spinning and it’s only you and him in that exact moment and it’s all you want because he’s all you want, and you never want that to change.


End file.
